The Dresden Files (tv) / Bob / 12. Soul
Title: When I Look At You
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob
Prompt: 12. Soul
Word Count: 669
Rating: PG
Summary: Bob remembers.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me. Just passing through.
Notes: Takes place before the episode Soul Beneficiary.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
The flavor of the month was blonde.
Bob wasn't certain but he thought that her eyes might be blue. It was hard to tell when her face was turned away and buried beneath a curtain of platinum hair. She lay on her side, suntanned limbs entwined in tumbled sheets and Harry's arms. A blood red rose in a stylized latticework of thorns was tattooed across the swell of one tantalizingly bare breast, vanishing into nether regions unseen.
Pleasantly exhausted from several hours of vigorous exercise, the couple now slept, each snoring softly. Neither one was aware of the ghostly presence standing at the foot of the bed. It was just as well that they were not. Bob sincerely doubted that the lady would appreciate having an audience. Harry wasn't especially pleased with the idea himself and had said as much on more than one occasion, most notably after one of his dalliances had woken to find a tall, pale stranger standing immediately beside her. The lady had screamed obscenities for the better part of an hour.
"For crying out loud, Bob. You've got to stop doing that!" said Harry in frustration after the trollop had stormed out of the apartment and out of his life forever. "I know it's been a long time since you… well, you know. But you can't keep reliving your glory days through me and my dates! There are videos and magazines for that sort of thing, okay?"
Bob scowled at the memory. As if a mere printed page or an encounter staged for an audience were any substitute for living flesh and the heat of passion.
The ghost vanished from the bedroom loft, leaving the sleeping couple to their dreams. He reappeared on the apartment's lower level and walked toward the dusty windows. A foot shy of his destination he was forced to pause, his progress hindered by the invisible chains that bound him. A pale visage among shadows, he peered out at the predawn darkness into the past.
Eight hundred years of separation had not succeeded in erasing her memory from his heart or his mind. He could envision her as clearly as if their parting had been only yesterday. The thick, wild tresses so black that they shone blue in the moonlight and her eyes, greener than emeralds and twice as bright with life. Her complexion was ruddy but fair like all of the peoples of the isles; her form was slender as a willow and just as strong. She stood nearly as tall as he; near enough that she could boldly meet his gaze.
Bob closed his eyes and delved deeper within himself. His memory drew in the scent of her; sweet summer rose and lavender, the tang of heather and cloves. The soft, raw silk of her hair within his fingers and the taste of her lips … full, sensual, soft, and sweet as honey. The warmth of full, firm breasts against his naked chest and the weight of her within his arms, flesh touching flesh, heart to heart. The rhythm of her breath as it mingled with his until it was as if they were one and the same being, two halves of a whole--
--only to be torn asunder, the jagged wound left to bleed for all eternity.
She was his life. His heart. His very soul. She was his everything. All that was best and good within him was there because of her love and faith. Everything worth living for was personified in her. She was the keeper of his heart, wrapped forever around her delicate fingers. She was - had been -- his beloved Winifred.
He had promised to love and protect her, always.
He had failed. Not once, but twice - to the ruination of all that they both held dear.
Somewhere in the distance a clock struck the hour. The night sky was shifting from velvet black to rich purples and dusky rose, heralding the break of the day.
Bob saw only another empty sunrise through a mist of tears.
Fandom: The Dresden Files (tv-verse)
Characters: Bob
Prompt: 12. Soul
Word Count: 669
Rating: PG
Summary: Bob remembers.
Disclaimer: The Dresden Files do not belong to me. Just passing through.
Notes: Takes place before the episode Soul Beneficiary.
Table: Here There be Ghosts
The flavor of the month was blonde.
Bob wasn't certain but he thought that her eyes might be blue. It was hard to tell when her face was turned away and buried beneath a curtain of platinum hair. She lay on her side, suntanned limbs entwined in tumbled sheets and Harry's arms. A blood red rose in a stylized latticework of thorns was tattooed across the swell of one tantalizingly bare breast, vanishing into nether regions unseen.
Pleasantly exhausted from several hours of vigorous exercise, the couple now slept, each snoring softly. Neither one was aware of the ghostly presence standing at the foot of the bed. It was just as well that they were not. Bob sincerely doubted that the lady would appreciate having an audience. Harry wasn't especially pleased with the idea himself and had said as much on more than one occasion, most notably after one of his dalliances had woken to find a tall, pale stranger standing immediately beside her. The lady had screamed obscenities for the better part of an hour.
"For crying out loud, Bob. You've got to stop doing that!" said Harry in frustration after the trollop had stormed out of the apartment and out of his life forever. "I know it's been a long time since you… well, you know. But you can't keep reliving your glory days through me and my dates! There are videos and magazines for that sort of thing, okay?"
Bob scowled at the memory. As if a mere printed page or an encounter staged for an audience were any substitute for living flesh and the heat of passion.
The ghost vanished from the bedroom loft, leaving the sleeping couple to their dreams. He reappeared on the apartment's lower level and walked toward the dusty windows. A foot shy of his destination he was forced to pause, his progress hindered by the invisible chains that bound him. A pale visage among shadows, he peered out at the predawn darkness into the past.
Eight hundred years of separation had not succeeded in erasing her memory from his heart or his mind. He could envision her as clearly as if their parting had been only yesterday. The thick, wild tresses so black that they shone blue in the moonlight and her eyes, greener than emeralds and twice as bright with life. Her complexion was ruddy but fair like all of the peoples of the isles; her form was slender as a willow and just as strong. She stood nearly as tall as he; near enough that she could boldly meet his gaze.
Bob closed his eyes and delved deeper within himself. His memory drew in the scent of her; sweet summer rose and lavender, the tang of heather and cloves. The soft, raw silk of her hair within his fingers and the taste of her lips … full, sensual, soft, and sweet as honey. The warmth of full, firm breasts against his naked chest and the weight of her within his arms, flesh touching flesh, heart to heart. The rhythm of her breath as it mingled with his until it was as if they were one and the same being, two halves of a whole--
--only to be torn asunder, the jagged wound left to bleed for all eternity.
She was his life. His heart. His very soul. She was his everything. All that was best and good within him was there because of her love and faith. Everything worth living for was personified in her. She was the keeper of his heart, wrapped forever around her delicate fingers. She was - had been -- his beloved Winifred.
He had promised to love and protect her, always.
He had failed. Not once, but twice - to the ruination of all that they both held dear.
Somewhere in the distance a clock struck the hour. The night sky was shifting from velvet black to rich purples and dusky rose, heralding the break of the day.
Bob saw only another empty sunrise through a mist of tears.